Farley here,
Does BFF mean a dog can only have one? I need many BFFs. I guess “best” implies one, but I’m a dog, so I’m going to extend the meaning.
This is me boating with Smudge, the lab, Cali, the Jack Russell, oh and Kristina too. She’s not a dog, but we let her hang with us anyway.
My point – any size dog can go boating. Large dog, small dog and medium-sized dog (me) all have a place aboard. And any size dog can join the BFF club.
Woof Woof
Farley here,
Last week when I wrote about dolphins, you might have gotten the impression I’m afraid of large animals. Not true.
When I was a young pup, my BFF was Joe – a 120 pound golden retriever.
Our life together existed of …
And more of …
But then I had to share my bed with him. He didn’t quite fit, and he didn’t quite get that. You know how some small dogs think they’re big dogs. Well, Joe thinks he’s a small dog. Ha ha on him.
I will admit, I liked to cuddle with him. That doesn’t mean I’m not a cool dude, though.
Woof Woof.
Farley Here,
“What the barking blazes is that thing swimming in front of Mattina?” I bark
Kristina and Matt come to the bow. They’re all calm, like a monster isn’t swimming so close to us.
“Go away I,” I bark. “Or else.” Or else what, I have no idea.
Do you see how close it came to our boat?
I can’t believe the beast doesn’t listen to me. So you know what it does next?
It swims right underneath me. I go crazy jumping up and down barking at it. Mr. Dolphin turns on his side and looks up at me. I think he’s smiling at me. An evil smile, mind you. I bounce, and I bark, doing my best to scare it away. I am the protector of this pack, and I take my job seriously.
Kristina and Matt hide behind me. They know they need me to take care of them. And I do. Ten long minutes later, the dolphin finally understands he’s not welcome and he swims away.
I don’t he’ll come back anytime soon. Phew. I’m glad that’s over and I can go back to napping on my trampoline.
Woof Woof.
Farley here.
I’m in the Bahamas and this is how I feel:
Woof Woof. Yipeeeee! Woof Woof
Farley here.
So I’m sailing again. What do I do underway? Well, unless there are dolphins swimming by, I get bored.
And when I’m bored, I get crazy.
I go to the forward guest cabin and I roll right . . .
And then I roll left.
And lastly, I play with my squeaky toy.
I mean what else does a dog do when sailing. Matt and Kristina won’t let me steer, at least not all the time.
It’s a talent being able to entertain yourself.
Woof Woof
Farley here.
Do any of you other canines suffer from allergies? I do, and they drives me crazy.
One thought is wheat, another is certain types of grass, but my latest theory is turkey. I’ve got American and Canadian humans as part of my extended pack, so on Sunday we celebrated AmeriCanadian Thanks Giving. We do this every year. Of course, I got turkey left overs. Yum Yum and then itch itch.
My next question is how many times can a dog wake a human without them getting annoyed?
Apparently a lot, if the human is Kristina.
I wake her by tapping my nails on the floor. I do this until she gets out of bed and helps me out.
Sometimes she’s a little slow when she’s sleepy, and it took her until the fourth time I woke her to figure out I was itchy and needed a Benadryl.
Now, I’m a floor dog. I don’t sleep on furniture or in the bed, but I think Kristina was so tired and wanted to lie down, that she made me get in the bed. Yup, made me. She lifted me up and then rubbed my belly until I settled down and could sleep. This is me lying on her pillow!
Really, do I have her trained or what?
Woof Woof.
How does Kristina not understand that I don’t like baths?
Look at me. This is my best pathetic look. Even as a puppy I knew how to look sad.
Still here we are, almost 5 years later and she’s still giving me baths.
She talks about how the organic, chemical free shampoo is good for my skin. It even has oatmeal in it, like I care.
Just because I was running on the beach this morning, she decided I needed to be clean before I got on the boat.
Any advice on how I avoid future baths?
Woof Woof.
Farley here.
Kristina and Matt are getting ready to leave the country for months on end, and there seems to be an endless supply of presents for me.
A delivery person arrives almost daily and gives me a box.
I can hear him coming, step by step, along the dock . . . I can tell by the smell it’s him.
“He’s here. He’s here,” I bark.
Kristina opens the door for me and let’s me greet him. The guy comes so often he knows my name.
He hands over my present. “Thanks,” I bark.
Kristina always takes out whatever is in the box, like I care. But then . . . I get to rip the box apart, making a mess, shredding cardboard. The sound is so satisfying.
Once I’m done, I just have to wait until he comes back with my next box. Who knows why I keep getting presents, but Kristina says it’s something about no stores where we are going and we have to get prepared.
Woof Woof.
Farley here.
I almost missed the maiden voyage of Allura: our dinghy.
Matt thinks he’s so smart. He uses our dinghy hoist to quietly lower the boat off the stern of Mattina. I hear the splash.
“Wait,” I bark from below. I know what he’s doing.
Then I hear it. One pull and the engine starts. Matt is smiling because it’s the first pull of the season.
I jump up the three stairs from the port hull, that’s my side by the way, and rush to the stern.
“Wait for me!” I bark.
Kristina is passing Matt a life jacket and I nudge her (gently) out of the way. I bound from the top step to the dinghy in one leap. I haven’t forgotten how to do this and am proud of myself. Once I jumped, current took the dinghy, and I went swimming. I try not to do that anymore.
Purr goes the engine (and no it’s not a cat), yippee goes Matt, and woof woof go I.
We head out to the Intracoastal Waterway for my first dinghy ride of the season. I love my little boat.
Woof Woof.
Farley Here,
I gotta tell ya, I’m loving Flagler Country in Florida with its dog friendly beaches and dog friendly restaurants.
Farley’s is an Irish Pub that allows dogs. Just to prove it to you, I had the server take my photo with Kristina and Matt.
Amazing that I can go out and have dinner. I didn’t get to eat anything, and Kristina expects me to sit quietly underneath the table and not disturb anyone. I’m not even allowed to talk to other dogs. Kristina explained that I have to have good table manners or I’d have to stay at home.
I’d rather go out and behave then stay alone waiting for my humans to come home. I get a little lonely if I’m alone to long, but then who doesn’t? Why oh why don’t all restaurants allow dogs? Then I’d never have to stay home just because my humans feel like having dinner out.
A dog can dream, can’t he?
Woof Woof
